no one's gonna stop me now
by hollyhobbit101
Summary: For the first time in what feels like forever, Sam chooses. Tag to 12x14, The Raid


**A/N: I was so proud of Sam in this episode. I have wanted an episode like this forever because we finally get to see him be angry and have feelings and it's beautiful. Thank you, writers. I am surprised, but not mad at Sam for allying with the BMoL, unlike Mary and feel free to call me biased if you want (because I totally am whoops) but I do have legit reasons. I'll put those in my end author's note so you don't have to read them if you don't want.**

* * *

It stings, when Dean harshly tells him to pick a side, to stop playing the middle. Apparently he's forgotten 20 or more years ago when he played that same role between Sam and their dad, when he was the one to break up fights and take neither side. Not that Sam blames him for being pissed, he just wishes that Dean understood his reasons for wanting to be the middle ground better. Because it seems to Sam that every time he has picked a side, good intentions aside, he's always - _always_ \- chosen wrong. Running off with Ruby and drinking demon blood, not looking for Dean when he was in Purgatory, trying to remove the Mark of Cain and getting Charlie killed, plus almost destroying the world two or three times over. Hell, even going away to Stanford because, whilst he had enjoyed the freedom from John and hunting it had given him, if he hadn't have gone there would be a thirty-three year old blonde called Jessica Moore still alive somewhere, happy, and not even knowing the name Sam Winchester.

* * *

Mary claims to know why he left Stanford, but Sam's never told her the whole truth of his brief grab for normality and his almost-life. Not because she wouldn't understand, but because he wouldn't be able to bear to see the guilty look on her face as she realises how much her deal has hurt him. He can see that she still wants to believe that a world without monsters would mean normal lives for him and Dean, but he gave up on normal a long time ago. Hunting is his life now, and he can't go back. Besides, he's always known he was never a good fit for the outside world.

* * *

It's almost funny how unprepared the Men of Letters are for an attack. After all the crap they spouted about how they're a better way, Sam can't help but feel a little disappointed. He's seen their weapons, their tech, and he has to admit their strategy is good, but he would have thought they'd have more experienced killers than just Ketch on board. As it is, he's MIA and their only defence is three hunters and a few letter openers against the goddamn Alpha Vamp. He shakes his head and runs a hand across his mouth in despair.

"Have you got anything stronger?" he half jokes, not expecting a response. Certainly not expecting Mom to look at Mick and ask where something is. Mick looks torn for a moment before Mary glares at him and he rushes off down one of the corridors to fetch whatever _it_ is.

* * *

Mick's only gone for a couple of minutes before he's huffing and puffing back into the room, lugging a heavy case, and then _it_ is on the table in front of him and Sam can't quite believe what he's seeing. The last time he saw this gun was seven years ago and Ellen and Jo's deaths were still fresh in his mind and they were facing down Lucifer not knowing that they would fail whether they got the shot or not. Tears prick the back of his eyes and he swallows them down, not trusting himself to speak, as he reaches over and gingerly picks it up, still not quite believing that it's real.

But the weight is familiar in his hand and he grips the Colt tightly as a wave of memories threatens to overwhelm him. "Where did you get this?" he asks quietly, anger barely contained.

"I stole it." Sam looks down at Mary, startled, hers the last voice he expected to answer. "From Ramiel," she explains and suddenly it all makes sense. The accusations of something being stolen, the countdown, her clear uneasiness around the Prince of Hell. He had put it down to the fact that she was only just getting back into hunting, and the demon must have brought up memories of Azazel, but it was all because she had been the one to steal something and she hadn't owned up to it. Not when Ramiel threatened all their lives, not when Cas was dying, not ever. He wants to say something to her, but then Mick pipes up next to him, complaining about how the damn gun doesn't work and that makes him want to smile because the British Men of Letters, with all their fancy equipment and knowledge, can't figure out the Colt but a grizzly old hunter with nothing but grim determination and a little help from a demon could. He quickly writes down the recipe then they split up and it's almost - _almost_ \- like any other hunt.

* * *

The vamps are everywhere, and it takes Sam longer than he would have liked to find his way to the armoury. When he finally does find it he's disappointed (again) by how small it is; the Impala's trunk probably has more weapons than this broom cupboard, albeit less high-tech. None of that matters though when he spots Mary on the floor with a bloody wound on her head. He rushes over to her and is relieved when she wakes up mostly okay and able to stand. She fills him in on what happened as they run and, whilst he is surprised to hear about Piers, he's not exactly shocked. He had never met the hunter in person, but from what Rufus had told him he's not exactly the most trustworthy.

The Alpha is too occupied with Mick to notice them creep in through the door, but Piers does and the commotion caused is all the distraction Sam needs to grab the Colt and level it at the Alpha's head.

"That gun can't save all of you," he boldly declares, but one glance at Mick and a plan begins to formulate in Sam's mind.

"Who says I was here to save all of us?"

* * *

The Colt is loaded and Sam stands his ground. Satisfaction races through him as he watches realisation dawn on the vampire's face, but he can't waste a second and his finger tightens on the trigger, the etchings on the gun feeling so familiar under his fingers. He fires, and the power of the gun sends the bullet straight through the Alpha's head. Orange light sparks through him, illuminating his bones under the skin and then he crumples to the floor, dead, and, as he does so, all the adrenalin rushes out of Sam and he sighs wearily, shoulders slumping.

* * *

Sam chooses.

He still doesn't trust the Brits, not completely, but he can't deny that what they're doing appeals to him. Maybe a normal life for him is off the cards now (or maybe, _just maybe_ , it isn't) but there are still plenty of other people out there whose lives don't have to be touched by the supernatural. So many innocent people who might die if he doesn't do this, and Sam is determined there won't be any more Jessica Moores or Kevin Trans or Charlie Bradburys. So he chooses, and he hopes to God that this time he has chosen right.

* * *

 **A/N: As per usual, I really don't like the ending. I am kind of relieved to get back into Sam's head, although I did find this quite difficult to write for some reason.**

 **As promised, my reasons for not being mad at Sam:**

 **1\. My main issue with Mary was her keeping it a secret from the boys. I don't believe for one second Sam is going to lie or hide this from Dean so I'm already more okay with it.**

 **2\. Sam and only Sam was tortured by the BMoL. He's not betraying anyone by allying with them, especially if he makes no secret out of it.**

 **3\. I firmly believe that one wrong move and he'll be out. I doubt he still fully trusts them (who would in his shoes?) and I have a little headcanon/unlikely thought that he's partially joining to sort them out because, quite frankly, they're a mess.**

 **I could go on, but I won't. Please leave a review if you have a moment. Bye!**


End file.
